


Hotel Room Where Demons Play

by lydiasbones



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiasbones/pseuds/lydiasbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn-centric ot5 in which zayn gets taken care of</p>
<p>title from halsey’s “coming down” | <i>now we’re lost somewhere in outer space/in a hotel room where demons play</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel Room Where Demons Play

It’s a strange book, really visceral. It had been sitting on a table in the studio for days, so Zayn figured no one must be missing it, picked it up and took it home. He’s absorbed in it when someone slides onto the couch next to him. He doesn’t look up, but he feels a steady heartbeat and a cold nose against his throat. Niall.

“What’s your favorite part?” Niall asks quietly, breath hot against Zayn’s skin.

Zayn flips back a bit, finds the page he’d earmarked. “ _Memories warm you up from the inside_ ,” he reads. “ _But they also tear you apart_.”

Niall shifts, hums. He’s silent for a while, and Zayn reads a few more pages, turning them quietly. Eventually, Niall asks, “You think that’s true?”

Zayn shrugs, says, “Sometimes it’s hard to remember how things were.”

Niall kisses the corner of his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. He stays curled into Zayn’s side for another hour, and Zayn keeps reading his book, Niall’s steady heart beating with his own.

–

“Zayn, gimme your phone,” Harry demands, and Zayn hands it off to him absently, fully concentrated on pulling the duct tape off Liam’s arms. He yanks off another tiny bit and Liam winces miserably.

Zayn sighs. “You’re an asshole, Louis.”

“That’s the fifth time you’ve said it today, Zee,” Louis replies, nonchalant, but he looks guilty. Good.

Niall is watching the proceedings in interest. “Maybe if we put some baby oil on him?” he says.

Liam is still watching his arm in trepidation. “Where the hell would we get baby oil?”

“I’ve got some in my dressing room, give me a second,” Harry mutters, standing up. He’s still typing something on Zayn’s phone. Louis says, “Of fucking _course_ you do,” and Zayn kicks him in the ankle.

Before Harry walks out, he turns back to toss Zayn his phone. He asks, “Zayn, babe, where’s your Twitter app?”

Zayn shrugs and pulls at another bit of the duct tape. Liam lets out a sad noise and drops his head onto Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn lifts his hand to stroke Liam’s hair and says, “Deleted it.”

Harry frowns. “How come?”

Zayn looks down at Liam’s head and takes a deep breath of his shampoo, doesn’t make eye contact with Harry when he replies, “Bit stressful sometimes.”

Liam drops a dry kiss to Zayn’s neck. “Yeah babe, it can be,” he says into Zayn’s skin.

“Don’t let those things bother you,” Harry says. Zayn can almost hear the furrow in his brow.

Zayn adjusts so that Liam has to lift his head, feels his own muscles stiffen. “It’s not a big deal, Haz,” he snaps. “Drop it, yeah?”

Harry steps back a little and nods, furrow in his brow loosening to something more placid. Zayn hates that face. It’s still Harry’s first reaction to confrontation, after all this time. A neutral expression.

Louis doesn’t have one of those. He’s watching Zayn with open alarm and curiosity, and it makes Zayn want to rip out his own skin. He forces a laugh.

“Not everything has to be such a big deal, boys,” he says lightly. “I’ll go with Harry to get that oil, yeah?”

On the way to Harry’s room, Harry cautiously opens, “If you want to talk, Zee,” but Zayn interrupts him.

“It’s fine, Harry, I promise. You know how Twitter is.” Zayn runs a hand through his hair and wonders if Harry does know, really, how Twitter is. Wonders if Harry ever sees the word _terrorist_ on his feed.

“I do,” Harry says cautiously. “But that doesn’t mean I know how you’re experiencing it.” Before Zayn can say anything, Harry continues, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just—sorry for pushing. It’s good if deleting it helps you, obviously.”

They’re in Harry’s dressing room now, and Zayn collapses onto one of his chairs. Harry looks at him questioningly and Zayn nods. Harry straddles Zayn, dropping his head so their cheeks are pressed together. His hair tickles Zayn’s face, but Zayn doesn’t move.

“It all feels harder, sometimes,” is all Zayn knows how to say.

Harry nods and whispers, “Yeah, it does,” and doesn’t offer any platitudes. He does say, “Love you so much.”

Zayn pulls back so he can kiss Harry, deep and wet. “Love you,” he says. “Let’s find that oil and put Liam out of his misery.”

–

“You don’t draw much, anymore,” Liam says, soft. His lips are still red and swollen from where Zayn had bitten them, and there’s a bit of precome on his cheek from blowing Zayn. Zayn rubs it off with his thumb.

“Guess not,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to Liam’s nose. “Haven’t thought about it lately. We’ve been pretty busy.”

Liam pouts, eyes wide and soft and unbearably earnest. Then, he grins, and for a moment, he looks startlingly like Louis. “Draw me,” he demands.

Zayn raises an eyebrow, but Liam is already out of bed and digging around for a notebook and pen. When he finds them, he lets out a pleased noise and crawls back into bed, handing them off to Zayn. “Draw me,” he repeats, running a thumb over Zayn’s cheek, and Zayn can’t argue when Liam looks like that, so he starts sketching.

When Zayn is etching Liam’s chevrons into the page, Louis comes into the room and lets out an offended squawk.

“Not only did you two have sex without me,” he says, “Now Zayn is doing a portrait of Liam? Do you not love me at all?”

Zayn laughs and pulls Louis into bed with them, and while Liam kisses Louis soundly, Zayn finishes up the chevrons and starts drawing Louis on another page. Louis immediately pulls away from Liam to demand that Zayn not make his chin too pointy.

Eventually, Niall and Harry filter in and demand drawings, as well. Zayn does Harry first and spends too long on his hair. Once he starts drawing Niall, Harry ducks down and gives Zayn a very enthusiastic blowjob.

Zayn almost puts down the notebook, but Harry pops off to say, “Keep going,” and then swallows Zayn back down. Zayn throws his head back and groans, but puts the pen back to the page.

The sketch of Niall is inarguably the worst, but Niall gushes over it with enthusiasm, all the boys pushing each other aside and arguing about who looks the best.

“You’re amazing, Zayn,” Liam says quietly as the boys shout over each other. Zayn doesn’t reply, but he grabs Liam’s hand and interlocks their fingers and doesn’t let go for a long time.

–

When they get out of the interview, Zayn is trembling. The list of questions had been previously approved, so Zayn doesn’t know how this one had slipped past, hadn’t known what to say when the interviewer asked, “ _Zayn, you’ve been gone quite a bit recently. How do you respond to allegations that you’ve had a drug problem?_ ”

Zayn can’t remember the answer he’d stammered, can only remember that once his own voice had petered out, Liam had picked up the question, had given the interviewer a placating response.

“The _fucking_ bastards,” Louis seethes. “We were only supposed to get approved questions, what the _fuck_ was that?”

There’s a manager who’s yelling at the interviewer now, swearing that the interview will never be aired and that One Direction will never come on this show again, but it’s background noise. The damage is done.

“Zayn?” Harry says, soft. “Zayn, babe. Come on.”

Zayn doesn’t know what’s going on, feels his hands and legs shaking. He’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired he can barely stand it.

“Zee,” Niall murmurs. He puts an arm around Zayn’s waist, steady, and leads him out of the room, Harry trailing behind them. They all get on the bus, Liam and Louis climbing in a few minutes after them.

When he comes in, there’s still furious rage on Louis’ face, but when his eyes land on Zayn he immediately softens. He walks over to the couch and knocks Zayn back into it, climbing on top of Zayn and pressing himself bodily against him.

“Fuck it, honestly,” Louis says into Zayn’s hair. “Fuck ‘em all. Want me to pack a bowl?”

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes. Louis presses a fierce, wet kiss to Zayn’s jaw and stands up to find his stash.

Liam says, “You deserve a lot better than that,” and Zayn doesn’t reply because there isn’t much he can say to that, really.

When Louis comes back, he doesn’t say a word, just grabs Zayn and yanks him into another partition of the bus, silently handing him a packed bowl and a lighter.

Zayn takes a deep hit and passes the bowl back to Louis. Louis takes a hit and speaks on the exhale. “What do they fuckin’ know. Anything for the ratings.”

Zayn nods silently, accepts the bowl and takes another hit. Louis is watching him intently through the smoke. He says, “I love you. The boys love you. The fans love you.”

Zayn nods again and passes the bowl back, but Louis puts it away. Still watching Zayn carefully, he says, “Tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“Nothing’s been bothering me,” Zayn replies. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to react to the look on Louis’ face.

Not smart to let his guard down. Louis pinches Zayn’s nipple, sharp, and Zayn’s eyes fly back open.

“Since when do you fucking lie to _us_ , Zayn?” Louis asks, sharp. His jaw is tight and he looks small, for a moment. Zayn leans into him unconsciously and Louis immediately brings him in, wraps an arm around Zayn so they’re touching everywhere.

This way, Zayn can’t look into Louis’ face. He whispers, “It’s all hard. I never stop missing my family and I never stop caring what people say.” He lets out a deep, shuddering breath, but Louis strokes his back and Zayn keeps going. “And I—I need a break sometimes. I don’t work the way you boys do, I just—I can’t keep moving all the time. I need a pause button.”

Louis picks the bowl back up, says, “You’ve got one, mate. It’s us.”

They finish the bowl, and when they reach the hotel and Zayn goes to his room, he has four boys standing at his doorway, all with pillows and puppy eyes. He lets them in with a sigh, turns around so they don’t see him grin.

They all crowd onto his bed to sleep, and when Zayn gets too hot and wakes up in the middle of the night, Niall is awake too. He says, “Let’s go to mine,” and they go to Niall’s room and crawl into bed and sigh into his cool sheets.

In the morning, Niall sucks marks into Zayn’s stomach and Liam filters into the room and orders coffee and breakfast. Harry comes in next and lays on top of Liam, complaining dramatically about how hungry he is and then whines when Louis finally barges into the room and immediately steals a bit of Harry’s bacon.

Zayn watches them, notices that Niall has a hand on Zayn’s ankle but gives him room on the bed because he knows that Zayn needs time and space in the mornings. He watches how Louis sneaks a bit of his own bacon onto Harry’s plate when Harry isn’t looking and how Liam keeps catching Zayn’s eye and grinning.

It’s good, is the thing. It’s always hard, but it’s always so fucking good.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr post of this fic [here](http://mermaidsbush.tumblr.com/post/131525180932/hotel-room-where-demons-play)!


End file.
